


Underestimated

by TinksMind_Thea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Beethoven, Classical Music, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romantic Fluff, Supernatural Fluff, Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 01:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11093637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinksMind_Thea/pseuds/TinksMind_Thea
Summary: An Alternate Universe where Sam is at Stanford after taking some time for Dean. Here he meets the reader, the fall in love. This is a one shot insight into their lives together, a law student and a master musician.





	Underestimated

**Author's Note:**

> Been away for a while due to my laptop exploding. Here is my entrance for a tumblr writing competition hosted by @casbabydontgoineedyou which is late due to my issue with a laptop. Not my best work but it's something to feed you hungry readers. Hope you guys like it.  
> Prompt I got was “Don’t let my dramatic entrance fool you - I have no idea what I am doing”

“Food’s ready!” You shout to the empty room as you pull your famous pasta bake out of the oven. You can hear the scrambling stampede which is your fiancé as he rushes to break-free from all the paperwork that he is undoubtedly buried in.

  
You are both in your final year at Stanford although you are doing completely different degrees. Whilst your fiancé is studying law you opted for a more creative, and debatably difficult, subject; music. You spent most of your time composing and practicing whilst he revised on the couch or up in the bedroom. You had been lucky that, upon announcing your engagement to your parents your father had become flustered and furious. Worried that he still hadn’t come to terms that you were with someone of a lower status to yourself you dragged him out of your parents living room; ready for a shouting match. It was then that your father had called for his secretary, mumbling indistinguishably about something being unacceptable and how you deserved better.

  
The feeling of warm, strong, arms wrapping around your waist brought you back to the present. Resting your head against the shoulder behind you for a moment, you can’t help but voice just how blessed you truly are.

  
“Sit down, I will finish serving up” Smiling you go to disagree only to be interrupted by a finger on your lips. A comfortable silence falls between the two of you as sit, waiting for him to finish piling the food onto your plates.

  
“Are you happy?” you mutter as he lays your plate before you. His eyebrows knit together as he lowers himself into his chair. “I mean here. Are you happy here?”  
You rush to get your words out as he opens his mouth to respond. “I mean I know this isn’t the lifestyle you were used to, nor was it what you expected I just…”

  
“We could be living in a box on the streets and I would be happy along as you were there Y/N.” A soft smile reaches his eyes as he studies you, eyes flickering from your nose to your ears to your eyes and your lips. “We should eat before this gets cold, I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

  
It’s not vain to think this is the best thing you have ever tasted, you tell yourself as the hot cheese hits your tongue, swiftly followed by the tomato and basil sauce. A small moan of appreciation escapes your companions throat, just another small trait of his that barely sees the light of day but every time it does you fall deeper in love with him. “How’s the revision going Sammy?” you inquire once he stops for breath.

  
“Good exams not for another few weeks so I have plenty of time to finish going over the last two modules. Would you mind testing me a bit in a few days?”

  
“Of course I don’t mind. Although I do need to do some more composition and need to record it. Do you mind filming me tomorrow before dinner so I can see how the whole thing sounds when digitised?”

  
“I mean yeah but it’s not like it’s too difficult, it sounds pretty amazing already and that’s without the piano added to the vocals.” You can see the gears clicking in his head as he fashions some white lie, you wait patiently with almost a feeling of excitement alongside your anticipation to see what he comes up with this time. You are the creative one in the relationship but he isn’t half bad when it comes to creating an image with is imagination. “Did I ever tell you that I am classically trained on the grand piano?”

  
Stifling a laugh, you play along, never before has he tried to step foot in your genre, your territory. “Oh wow, no you never told me. When was this? Where did you train?”

  
“You remember me saying I took a gap year after high school before staring at Stanford?” You hum as you remember the mystery behind where he went and why. He had told you that it had been a family thing that his brother dragged him on. “Well I went to England for a year and did a crash course at the Royal Academy of Music, I was such a fast learner that I only needed to stay a year before I had mastered all of Beethoven’s symphonies.”

  
“Any?” You ask, bowing your head as you get up so as to hide the smirk which has begun to make an appearance.

  
“Any.” He nods in agreement.

  
Humming thoughtfully to yourself, you begin to clear the table, placing the dirty crockery in the dishwasher you decide to have a little fun with this.

  
“So you can play Beethoven’s 21st Sonata? I have always loved that piece, it is so intricate and beautiful.” You ask, putting on your best voice of innocence as you link your fingers together. “It would be nice to have someone playing me the music for once.” With a flutter of your eyelashes you know you have him bending to your will.

  
He chews his lip before responding. “Remind me which one that is then of course I will show you what a highly trained classical pianist is capable of.”

  
“Babe it’s Waldstein one of his most complicated pieces ever.” With that he picks you up, plonking you into your favourite of the armchairs that face your piano. He tells you to wait there, and cover your eyes so that it is a better surprise.

  
Your mind wanders back to the conversation with your father. He had been so disgruntled, you would never have guessed that it was not your choice in man that had upset him, but the idea of you growing up and starting your life together in his crappy little apartment that you two had been sharing because it was nearer to campus then yours and neither of you could afford a car. Within an hour he had found you a four bedroom, luxury home in Faxon First, only a 10-minute drive from the university. It was ridiculously bigger than what you needed, with over 9,500 square feet of land for yourselves. It was the stunning pool in the back garden that had you entranced with the place, Sam, being the fitness freak he is, was in complete admiration of the gym, pool and tennis courts. Without batting an eye lid your dad spent nineteen million dollars on buying it alone, refusing to tell you the cost of all the other items he was adding such as a brand new, state of the art, grand piano to go in the living room.   
It was a massive upgrade from the one-bedroom apartment you had been living out of, despite the disapproval of your parents, and was even a little overwhelming. When you had tried to argue that there was no way you would have time to clean it he waved a hand to silence you, saying that no Y/L/N should ever do their own housework. You moved in a few weeks later to find your new housemaid awaiting your instructions. You and Sam had allowed her to stay in one of the spare rooms, deciding that she should get to live in this excellent home that she was keeping clean. You had grown quite fond of Charlie, and though she very rarely ate with you guys, she had become more a friend then a member of staff. The thing that showed you how much he really accepted Sam into the family though was when he brought Sam a 1967 Chevy Impala, just like the one his brother had inherited of their father.

  
A loud crash from the master bedroom brought you back to the present. You were almost convinced that you had imagined it when it happened again but before you have a chance to ask what has happened Sam shouts a lightly breathless yet also triumphant “I’m Okay!” down the stairs. His declaration is followed by what sounds like the rolling of thunder, and, if you weren’t mistaken, a cat yowling.

  
A moment later you hear the soft fall of his feet as he makes his way down the stairs. “Open your eyes Y/N”. He needn’t tell you twice before your head whips round to look at him.

  
He’s standing on the middle of the stairs, one hand on the banister, the other behind his back. He looks utterly ridiculous in the tailcoat that you bought him for family gatherings, white gloves stretch around his hands and to match he has a white waistcoat and white bowtie on top of one of his white shirts. He has his best Italian shoes on and a….

  
“Is that a Top-hat?” You demand, despite knowing full well that it was, as you point at the atrocity on his head. Despite this his hair manages to still look majestic as it has been slicked back and tucked behind his ears.

  
With a wink, Sam tips his hat before robotically descending the rest of the stairs and making his way towards the piano, sharply throwing the tail of his coat in the air as he drops onto the piano stool which is several inches too high for his long legs but he doesn’t seem to care. As your breath catches in your throat with anticipation, wondering how he is going to pull it off this time, he snaps his head in your direction; making intense eye contact as he lifts his hands into the air, letting them hover above the keys. He maintains the deep eye contact as you tuck your legs beneath you and he slams his hands on the keys. The jarring sound makes you wince in discomfort. Somehow he manages to keep a straight face through the entire ordeal, pressing random keys and using the pedals to cause utter chaos.

  
It is only when you can no longer contain your laughter that he breaks his stoic portrayal. “Don’t let my dramatic entrance fool you – I have no idea what I’m doing” he shrugs as you struggle to form words through your laughter.

  
“You don’t say” you finally manage to squeeze out.

With a playful smirk he begins to rid himself of his, interesting, attire, it is whilst you are admiring the strong muscles on his back that you realise something. “Babe?” He pauses to look at you, stood on one leg whilst he tackles the other to remove his trousers. “We don’t have a cat…”


End file.
